


One Hell of a Rehab: The Suite Life of Dante and Vergil

by SolidusTwilight111301



Category: Devil May Cry, Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Devil May Cry 5 Spoilers, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-Devil May Cry 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolidusTwilight111301/pseuds/SolidusTwilight111301
Summary: Charlie and her Hotel staff have received a mysterious letter heralding the arrival of some two new clients about to check into the Happy Hotel. Dante drags his brother Vergil along in the hopes that Charlie and co. can give him the therapy Vergil desperately needs, but is she cut out for the task or will the Sons of Sparda prove to be too much of a handful? One thing's for sure, the Hotel's about to get CRAZY.
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Dante/Angel Dust
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48





	1. The Time Has Come, And So Has Angel

It’d been a full day since Charlie’s disastrous interview on 666 news. A full day since word had gotten out that Angel Dust got involved with a turf war immediately as Charlie had attempted to use him as an example on how her hotel was going to be worthwhile and effective rehabilitation. A full day since Alastor walked in the front doors to become their ‘sponsor’ for no reason other than sheer boredom and had Sir Pentious and his Zeppelin dragged off to _who in Hell knows where_ by some eldritch horror before her Hotel Staff and then offered them Jambalaya like nothing had changed. Charlie had to admit, it was pretty damn good Jambalaya.

By all means, Charlie had every reason to be discouraged. Her goal was already so lofty that many considered it physically impossible and doomed to a tragic end. Katie Killjoy’s reporting had made her look an utter fool and Charlie’s sad attempt at a comeback provoked her into a fight, which to her was a betrayal of everything her ideals and the hotel’s concept stood for. Angel Dust’s involvement with turf war gave the impression he hasn’t improved whatsoever. And Alastor stated straight to her face that he doesn’t believe in her cause, he’s only there to slake his boredom and actively wants to watch her patients crash and burn.

And yet in spite of it all, Alastor and his ‘recruits’ had breathed new life into the Happy Hotel and between having more helping hands and the place being spruced up, things had begun to seem more ‘professional.’ They were at a new start, and they may yet see an influx of new patients soon enough. …Even one would be nice.

But no sense in being a Debbie Downer just yet. It’d only been a day. Who knows? Maybe her brawl with Katie convinced someone she wasn’t some sappy pushover and impressed someone enough to indulge in curiosity. One such thought among many other wishful hopes echoed in her head as she’d performed her morning routine.

As expected, Vaggie had awoken long before her to fix coffee and start on the paperwork that Charlie knew she’d be better suited for than her. Teeth brushed, hair combed, horns hidden and bright red suit jacket slipped on, all Charlie needed was a kiss from her girlfriend and her usual coffee (filled with so much cream and sweetener it wouldn’t be out of the question to assume her energy was more sugar rush than caffeine) and she’d be set.

Today was gonna be a good day. She could **_feel_ **it.

Charlie made her way down the long hallways flanked on either side by doors for the rooms to would be patients, which were she not in an optimistic mood she might describe as lonely and with an air of isolation. But as it stood she preferred to think of them more akin to symbols of potential waiting to be fulfilled, like flower pots waiting to hold the seeds of sinners for Charlie and her helpers to water into beautiful flowers that’d reach so high they’d reach Heaven itself.

The lone open door with pink light and familiar questionable scents emanating it helping further illustrate her point. “’Morning, Angel!” She’d cheerily wave to her Arachnid tenant, nonchalantly walking past as if the sight of Angel’s ‘morning stretch routine’ of pole dancing to some 80’s hair metal Cherry Bomb introduced him to was no more out of place than him fixing a piece of toast.

“Mornin’ Doll!” He’d wave back, the last of his practicing twirls completed, he switched off his music player and stepped to his closet. Today seemed like a good day to try out that new wig he got last week, if this whole ‘rehab’ thing didn’t work out he might as well keep his routines in practice to keep the cash coming. Or he could convince some schmuck into renting access to his ass for an hour or two. Who knows? Something inside him just felt like today would be an interesting day, and maybe a good opportunity to snag some hunk to be his boytoy.

Charlie made her way down the stairs to the Foyer, passing by Nifty dusting the space behind the portraits lining the wall. Charlie bid her a good morning and ruffled her hair, succumbing to the older sibling instincts denied to her by way of being an only child. In response Nifty paused her mantra of “Dirty Dirty Dusty Dusty Gotta Clean All This Filth” with a Chiming “Good morning!” before returning to her work without missing a beat.

As she reached the bottom of the steps, Charlie turned to see Alastor leaning against the counter where Husk managed the Hotel bar, the poor feline bartender’s face making it abundantly clear that Alastor had him captive as part of conversation and refused to let him go.

“…And then the nurse said ‘but doctor, _you’re_ the father!’” Alastor erupted with uproarious laughter as Husk groaned and slammed his face into the countertop, clutching a bottle of Cheap Booze that he couldn’t down fast enough.

“’Morning guys!” Charlie smiled and waved to the pair, turning the corner to head to the office to meet Vaggie.

“Ahh, Charlie! Just the young lady I hoped to see!” Alastor chimed, quickly approaching Charlie and allowing Husk to breath a sigh of sweet relief. Alastor had grabbed Charlie by the arm with his cane and spun her around to face him. “It seems we’ve received some correspondence from the mail, one piece of which is directed to you that my burning curiosity for its contents compelled me to deliver it to you posthaste!”

Alastor handed Charlie a fistful of envelopes, the majority of which she could tell were bills to hand off to Vaggie and junk mail to toss into the fireplace. ‘Penis Enlargement Pills! Details inside!’ What use did she have for those when she had demonic magick? “A letter for me? Sent here? God, this better not be from my Ex. I’ll check it out when I get to Vaggie, alright?”

Charlie resumed her routine objective when she noticed that Alastor had begun to follow her. “Mind if I tag along, dearie? Something in bones tells me Lady Luck’s smiling upon us today and that parcel’s contents are going to provide us with some _delicious_ entertainment soon!” Alastor lived by the philosophy that you were never dressed without a smile on his face, and thus his expressions were told more with his eyes. And his eyes to Charlie screamed ‘I’m gonna follow you anyway because Husk’s no fun.’

Charlie laughed nervously. “Sure, no problem.” When she had negotiated their ‘agreement’, she had outright described Alastor (charitably) as being ‘Shady as fuck’, and this interaction did them no favors. Charlie had inherited a great sum of demonic power owing to being born the infernal spawn of the Devil himself, but violence was simply never her first inclination. And if Alastor was as powerful as Vaggie claimed then a clash between him and her would be too catastrophic for Charlie to consider worth pursuing. Better to just submit to his whims. At least for now.

Finally, she walked into the office room, Vaggie mumbling to herself at all the work that still had to be done looking at the blueprints of the Hotel and how many places still needed some form of upkeep. Vaggie would never admit it (because he’s a **_jerk_** to put it mildly), but Alastor’s ‘renovations’ were a huge boon. The lower levels had been cleaned up thanks in no small part to Nifty, and the adjustments made to the interior otherwise definitely were a step up from what was practically a decrepit haunted house prior.

But Alastor was a wild card, a DANGEROUS wild card who could just as easily be their downfall as he could be their hope for success. Charlie was the only good thing in Hell, not just in general, but for her specifically. And she didn’t care if she got erased horrifically and painfully, if Alastor made any wrong move against her darling Charlie, Vaggie would see to it that her spear would be shoved so far up his ass that it’d come back out his mouth impaling his tongue like the sorry mug of _Orina De Burro_ that he was.

“’Mornin’ babe!” But all those worries evaporated when Vaggie laid her eye on Charlie’s smiling face. That same beautiful smile that gave Vaggie the strength to put up with whatever bullshit Hell would throw at her. The smile which moved her cold, dead heart like nothing else could and the smile that represented the promise of a final chance to sinners like her to make up for their mistakes and reach a better afterlife.

“…Morning, hon.” Vaggie’s usual scowl was warmed into a small smile at the sight of her beloved’s smiling visage. “Glad to see you feeling better than yesterday.” Vaggie passed Charlie a fresh mug of coffee, the empty cream containers and sugar packets indicating it was served just as saccharine as Charlie loved it.

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is.” Charlie enthusiastically took the coffee in hand. “I just feel like things are gonna be looking up for us today.” She chimed before taking a hearty sip from her coffee.

“Indeed!” The Radio Demon stepped in with his trademark mischievous grin. “So now that the upper management has assembled, how about you open that letter and see what mysterious devil’s reached out to us?”

Vaggie’s smile melted in response to Alastor’s presence into her usual scowl. “Why’s _he_ in here? And what letter?”

“He tagged along because he wanted me to open this.” Charlie held up the mysterious red envelope. There was no return address. Was it from someone who’d recently perished and wound up in Hell? It almost seemed shady. Maybe that’s why Alastor wanted Charlie to look at it so bad. He said he wanted to watch sinners try to reach salvation in hope only to laugh when they fell back down, so maybe this was some sick extension of that. Only one way to find out. Charlie tore open the envelope and was rewarded with a seemingly ordinary sheet of paper with crude, almost childish penmanship written on it that she read aloud.

  
  
“Dear whoever it may concern,

I’ve recently caught wind of your services and you may consider me intrigued. A rehabilitation Hotel for Devils? It sounds almost crazy enough to work! And if there’s one thing I love, It’s CRAZY. Be it Crazy parties, crazy babes, or crazy plans with potential for a good time. But I digress, I actually have business to discuss with you. My brother’s been a VERY naughty boy. He’s done some pretty messed up stuff and hurt a lot of people. I’ve been trying to urge him into some form of therapy for years but he’s probably the biggest, most stubborn Jackass I know. So, if I can’t reach him, I think it’s about time that I let someone else give it a shot. And if you’re so confident in your ability to bring out the best in the worst of the worst, I think dealing with my big brother will be a cakewalk for you. I’ve heard about your hotel through the grapevine and given the distance I think this letter should reach you not long before I do.  
  
Looking forward to doing business with you,

D. S. o. S.

P.S. If me or my brother cause any damage to your property, forward the bill to the following address…”  
  


“And then it gives the address to some place called ‘Devil May Cry.’” Charlie scratched her head in bewilderment. Devil May Cry? D.S.o.S.? What kind of names are these? Some earth gang or cartel? “This letter make any sense to either of you?”

Vaggie shook her head. The name of the location sounded familiar, and not in the good way. But Vaggie simply couldn’t put her finger on it. “No idea.”

“Hmmm.” Alastor pondered, tapping his chin. “’Devil May Cry’ certainly rings a Bell, but those initials are certainly throwing me off.” The letter’s sender mentioned a brother. Could it be…? Bah, no! That’s ridiculous! And furthermore not memories he wished to revisit anyway due to certain humiliation.

“Well whoever this guy is, I think we better get this ship in shape before-“ Charlie excitedly sounded off before a noise caught her attention. “Hey, do you guys hear that?” The noise came from outside! Charlie peaked through the blinders in the office, Vaggie and Alastor followed suit.

In the distance they saw a figure that looked like someone riding a motorcycle, with… something tied up on its back, that noise now clearly identified as the bike’s engine. The figure had come up along the road before making the turn into the Happy Hotel’s driveway.

Charlie gasped, eyes wide in excitement. “HOLY CRAP, HE’S ALREADY HERE!” Before Vaggie could urge her to wait for the rest of them, she bolted to the front doors and opened them wide in anticipation, a wide smile on her face.

A smile that started to fade upon making a realization, **_he wasn’t slowing down_**.

Charlie dived out of the way of the incoming Motorcylist, who barreled past her screaming **_WOO-HOO!_** , turning into a drift and skidding to a stop in the middle of the Foyer. He parked the strange motorcycle, adorned with what appeared to be pieces of armor and stylized horns and batlike wings on its surface, suggesting an otherworldly origin. The mysterious biker got off and grabbed the object he had tied to the bike which was… a passenger?

“Sorry about that, Cavaliere here can get kinda temperamental sometimes with his handling.” The Biker was odd for a wide variety of reasons, the vehicle he rode in on, his nonchalant attitude, the fact that he was carrying a passenger with him bound and gagged with what appeared to be enchanted ropes currently on his shoulders. But no reason was odder than his appearance, and the oddness was due to the fact of how ORDINARY he looked in comparison to the denizens of Hell.

Charlie and Vaggie were probably the closest to ‘Human’ that Sinners and Devils could be, and they still clearly had things that distinguished them from someone you’d find on Earth, be it Charlie’s rosy clown-like cheeks or Vaggie’s dark grey skin. But this man? He looked no different from a normal human man, probably in his 30’s with White-Silver hair and facial stubble in a red jacket, black shirt and dark jeans. “You guys got my letter right?”

“WE JUST CLEANED THAT FLOOR YOU _BURRO ESTUPIDO!_ ” Vaggie screamed at the red-clad biker, face red as a tomato and her pupil transformed into a skull. “AND YOU ALMOST RAN US OVER YOU SON OF A-!“

“Vaggie, Vaggie! Hey, hey, hey!” Charlie grabbed her girlfriend’s shoulder and pulled her back. “Breathe, _breeeeeaaaaathe_. Easy now, I’ll handle this.” Charlie knew that blowing up at him first thing for something he already apologized for wasn’t going to solve anything. She cleared her throat and approached him with an outstretched palm.

“We did! Welcome to the Happy Hotel, I’m Charlie and you can consider me the Chief Executive Officer around here, this whole thing’s my personal project to reduce Hell’s overcrowding by way of rehabilitation! Our motto here is _‘Inside every Demon is a rainbow!’_ and here we aim to dig deep within the souls of sinners and devils and bring out the small spark of goodness and fan its flame into a beacon so bright that Heaven will come to collect them as the final step on the road to redemption! How may we be of assistance to you on this fine day, good sir?”

The silver-haired stranger looked at Charlie’s associates and couldn’t help but notice the irony. A creepy guy with a creepy smile and a grumpy gal giving him the stink eye. ‘Inside every demon is a rainbow’ indeed. Still, this girl really knew how to pitch a sale. “The name’s Dante. And _this_ …”

With Dante’s free hand he sat his bound and gagged figure down from resting on his shoulders onto the floor to stand. His prisoner bore a striking resemblance to him, like him he seemed no different to a normal human with a clean-shaven face and his hair slicked back and spiked in the end. From what Charlie could tell from behind the ropes he was bound in, he seemed to prefer Blue over Dante’s red, and his clothing was a lot more formal then Dante’s choice of dress.

Unlike Dante however, while his mouth was gagged with what appeared to be an enchanted piece of adhesive tape, the expression in his eyes made it more than clear that he was far from as laid back and nonchalant. The only way Charlie figured this second stranger’s displeasure could be anymore obvious is if his irises and pupils had been replaced with bright glowing neon lights spelling out ‘I HATE YOU ALL’ in capital letters.

“This here is my twin brother Vergil.” Dante ripped the adhesive tape off Vergil’s mouth, causing him to gasp in relief. “Say hi to our new friends, bro!”

“I’m making a note to see to it that I never fall asleep anywhere near you ever again, brother.” While Dante’s voice was relaxed and casual, the stark difference between the two brothers was made more apparent in Vergil’s dry, unwaveringly serious tone as he glared in Dante’s direction before turning to look at the assorted denizens of Hell standing before them. “You’ve had some seriously irrational plans and courses of action before Dante, but this? This is probably the surest sign you’ve lost your mind. Rehabilitation? For Devils? In a Hotel run BY Devils? Is this some sort of joke?” The sheer absurdity of the premise was so overwhelming that if Vergil wasn’t already irritated by his brother tying him up and dragging him here, this may have been one of the rare occasions that Vergil allowed himself to **_laugh_** at it.

Vaggie’s scowl deepened, just what they needed, a loudmouthed idiot and his smartass tool of a brother, and she simply felt in her gut that these two clowns would be trouble to deal with. “I think I’m starting to see why Dante referred to you as a ‘naughty boy’ in his letter to us.” Vaggie looked to Charlie, desperately wishing to tell her to let her kick these two _Idiotas_ out the door.

“Goodness, that’s quite the attitude you’ve got there!” Charlie stepped to the older twin and reached for the knot holding his ropes in place. “But you can relax, Mr. Vergil. This is a safe place and you’re in good han-“

“ _Ah-ah-ah!_ I wouldn’t do that just yet.” Dante urged her away from the knot. “Not till we give him his own room and lock the door. You take your eyes off this guy for even a second and he’ll bolt out of here faster than you can say ‘Jackpot!’ Especially if you let him get his hands on _this_.”

Dante pulled a Blue Katana from behind his back. Despite its demonic aura, the craftsmanship was so elegant and beautiful that even someone like Charlie with no knowledge of weapon crafting could appreciate it. “I’m guessing you guys also have a strict ‘No Weapons’ policy, so I’ll just let you guys lock this up somewhere safe. How about you, smiles? You got a safe somewhere to put this in?” Dante pointed the Katana’s pommel in Alastor’s direction for the Radio Demon take it.

“Not yet, but that was next on our To-do list, ha ha!” Alastor chuckled, happily taking the sword in his hands. “But fret not my good man, I’ll take this little beauty somewhere safe until then.” When Nifty came down the stairs attracted by the sound of screeching tires, Alastor directed her attention to the skid marks on the floor and carpeting, prompting her to squeal in agony at the sight before pulling out heavier cleaning supplies to vigorously scrub the premises.

Vergil’s voice had become more venomous at the sight. “You would trust one of our family heirlooms to someone whose aura of malice and sadism is thick enough to cut with a knife? You’ve reached new depths of foolishness I hadn’t thought possible of you, Dante. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so disgusted.”

“Oh don’t look so serious, bro.” Dante pat Vergil on the shoulder and leaned against him. “If I catch him or any of the others pulling any funny business, **_I’ll just have to go and kick their asses_**.” Dante’s grin never faded, but with that last statement the look in his eyes had shifted from easygoing to deadly serious, hinting that he not only meant his promise, but he was tough enough to back it up.

Vaggie reflexively stepped close to a clearly concerned Charlie and prepared to pull out her spear before the Radio Demon stepped between them and Dante, idly twirling the Yamato in his hand and laughing dismissively. “ _Oh ho ho!_ I wouldn’t dream of such a thing, son of Sparda! _I_ know better than to incur the wrath of the man strong enough topple the dreaded Demon King Mundus! And judging by your equipment and your more seasoned appearance I’d wager you’ve only gotten stronger since then! No no no no no, I don’t say this often, but you’re not one whose bad side I wish to get on!” The Radio Demon’s constant toothy grin made it hard to discern his sincerity, and Dante’s intuition told him that he was stronger than he was letting on, but the tone in his voice sounded honest enough…

“…You make it sound as if you were there.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. Who was this guy? Did he know Dante and Dante just somehow forgot?

“That’s because I was, dear boy! Don’t you re-“ Alastor cut himself off, slapping his forehead in sudden clarity. “Oh, silly me! _Of course,_ you don’t recognize me! I looked _far different_ back then than I do now!” Alastor pulled up his cane, and with a flash of light it had transformed into a familiar sword crackling with Electrical power. The Sword’s crossguard was a pair of Bat wings leading to a Draconic head spewing the long, broad blade from its open mouth. “Does this little knickknack help ring any bells?”

Dante’s eyes flashed with realization, a smile creeping across his face. “Alastor! So, this is where you ended up after I sold ya.” As Alastor put away the sword bearing his namesake, he outstretched a hand that Dante shook vigorously. “How’s life as a free man with your own two legs to walk with, you crazy son of a gun?”

Alastor chuckled “Certainly an improvement over being stuck in a statue in some dank old castle in the middle of nowhere faced with decades of **Ṵ̷̩̤͕̲Ņ̦̞͈F̱͘A͞Ṯ͉͢HO̺̘̜͕͖̪͞M̖̫̘ͅA҉̲̬͚͚̘̼ͅBLE̪͍̠ ͢B͔͔̦̤̮͖̹O͓̭R̷͔͚̦̖̘ͅE̶͕̙̱͓̦̖̱D̼͓͉Ǫ͔̤͇̖̘M̜̯͖͙̩̩̺͘**.” Alastor’s face contorted suddenly into a thinner, gaunter version of his usual façade, his eyes shifting to resemble Radio Dials as Dante could swear he heard the faint sound of radio static in the air. But before Dante could even process it to ask, Alastor’s face returned to the usual affable smiling visage he kept on.

“Truthfully, I owe you a great debt Dante! Had you not stopped by old Isle Mallet, I’d still be cooped up there, going utterly MAD with the sheer deafening silence and nothing to do! I’d have lost my mind! _And I’d need to keep what little of it I had left_ , hahahahaha!” Alastor cackled, before leaning next to Dante and turning his attention to Charlie. “Charlie my dear, I’d suggest you take good care of Dante here. He’s a most worthwhile asset to have around!”

Before Vaggie could make a comment involving cutting the last two letters off of ‘asset’ to describe the red-coated son of Sparda, Charlie gasped with stars in her eyes. “Oh goodness, Alastor! I can’t believe you two are friends! That’s so great to hear that Alastor has someone to connect with! I’ll see to it your brother’s taken care of, Dante! …Oh but wait, will you be staying here with us? I mean, you don’t seem like a bad enough person to warrant punishment here in Hell.” Indeed, his normal human appearance made the question even more puzzling.

“Well me and Vergil still being alive probably has something to do with that.” Dante’s nonchalance highlighted his ignorance at how much of a big deal that was, further compounded at his confusion at Charlie’s shocked expression at the revelation.

“ _Then how the fuck are you two here?_ ” Vaggie asked in irritation, enjoying the Sparda brothers’ presence in the hotel less and less with each passing second.

“We cut a portal to the underworld as part of a plan to clean up one of Vergil’s messes. Had to cut down a big old demon tree by the roots because it was causing some serious problems up on Earth. _Isn’t that right, Vergil?_ ” Dante elbowed his brother in the ribs to urge him to confirm the story, and Vergil’s dismissive ‘ _hmph_ ’ was the closest he’d get.

Charlie’s eye twitched, desperately hoping that ‘demon tree’ he mentioned wasn’t the one she read about that lead to so much human death up on the surface a couple weeks back, so many of those souls ending up in Hell and causing the overcrowding problem to worsen as an added salt to the wound that was the annual purging.

Charlie put her hands together and inhaled sharply, exhaling out the stress to steady herself and resume her usual chipper demeanor. “Okay! Well then, it sounds like Vergil’s going to be a real fixer-upper, and I don’t exactly know if being… alive is any sort of roadblock when it comes to Heaven taking in more tenants, but we’ll give you two your own rooms to make your stay comfortable and we’ll get started on our rehabilitation program tomorrow! Just let us know anything you need and we’ll be glad to provide it!”

Dante grinned, seeing an opportunity to utilize his charms. “Does asking you out on a date fall under that category, gorgeous?”

Charlie blinked before laughing awkwardly. “I have a girlfriend who I am very devoted to and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Sorry!”

“Ahh, my apologies then.” Dante turned his attention to Vaggie, either somehow ignoring her face reddening and her eyeball resembling a boiling pot of water from sheer, barely-restrained-fury or just plain not caring. “What about you, mis-“

“ ** _I’m. Her. Girlfriend._** ” Vaggie venomously spat out through clenched teeth, pulling Charlie tight and pointing her spear in Dante’s direction. “Don’t even THINK about forgetting that, Pendejo! Because I’m the manager and director of activities in this hotel! I’m the one who handles the budget and decides who gets what resources! And if you get any further on my shitlist I’m going to see to it that this place becomes your personal Hell even moreso than the shitshow outside! **_You got that, cabrón hijo de perra?! ”_**

Dante pointed the spear away from him with his fingertips and put up his hands. “Alright, alright, _sheesh!_ All you had to tell me was you were gay, I’m not a mind reader!” Figures, the first two cute girls he found were together with each other, and he just made an already bad first impression even worse with the more foul-tempered one. “Look, I’m sorry alright? You two make for a cute couple and I hope you two are happy with each other, and I do mean that.”

Alastor barely stopped himself from snickering, Dante had only just gotten here and already he and his brother were proving to be a goldmine of entertainment! Vaggie seemingly calmed, but the frown on her face barely improved, still glaring angrily at Dante as if she didn’t buy his sincerity. Charlie gently wrested herself out of Vaggie’s tight grip and stepped between the two to defuse the situation.

“Dante you honestly shouldn’t have to apologize for something you couldn’t have possibly known, but the fact you did speaks volumes for your character! Now that that’s out of the way, how about we get you and your brother checked in, _right Vaggie?_ ” 

Vaggie scoffed. “Yeah, go ahead and do that. Meanwhile I’d like to talk with you _alone_ , Charlie. You know, _business stuff_. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what boxes to fill out, Dante.” Vaggie pulled her girlfriend aside to an isolated corner of the room as Dante pointed a pair of finger guns their way.

“You got it, honey!” Dante whistled to himself as he filled out the check-in sheet and Alastor stored away the Yamato behind the counter for the time being.

Vergil smiled at witnessing the whole exchange, if there was one good thing about this it was being able to see Dante continue to make a fool out of himself. “Glad to see your fortune with ladies is as smooth as ever, brother.”

“Hey, being honest and striking out is still better than hitting it and quitting it, ya deadbeat. …Thanks for giving me more material to work with on this by the way.” Dante continued to scribble away at the sheet as Vaggie turned back to face Charlie.

“Honey, I understand that it goes against your mission statement, but are you REALLY sure you want us to put up with these clowns? Angel Dust is a big enough headache on his own, and if we take these jokers in, we’ll have to put up with another, _straighter_ version of him and some humorless tool with what sounds like a massive body count! We’ve got enough on our plate as is!” Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders, her eye softening from her prior anger into a look of concern. If Charlie and she were overwhelmed with what they had at present, they’d be no use to anyone spreading themselves too thin. “And not to mention anyone who Alastor considers a _friend_ is someone who sets off some pretty severe alarm bells in my own opinion.”

Charlie sighed, taking Vaggie’s hand off her shoulder and placing it between both of hers. “Listen, I’m not dumb enough to think these two aren’t the handful they clearly are. But like I said with Alastor, leaving them out in the cold goes against everything I, we, this hotel stands for! If we’re presented with problems these two have, then we have a duty to fulfill to help fix them and send them on their way! …Look, let’s get them settled in and I’ll treat you to a very _special_ dinner and some bonding time later tonight. After all the stress I’ve put you through it’s the least I could do.” Charlie punctuated her offer with a kiss to Vaggie’s cheek, causing the grayish moth demon to blush and smile in spite of her worries.

“…Ah son of a bitch, I can’t ever win any arguments with you.” Vaggie giggled. “Alright, you’ve got a deal. So let’s put a seal on it.” Vaggie returned Charlie’s kiss with one of her own on her lips, not letting go for at least a solid five seconds, leaving Charlie pleasantly surprised.

Charlie was practically dizzy from the rush of blood and hormones pumping through her. _Oh the fun she and Vaggie were going to have!_ “Whoa now, I love the energy! But keep it saved up for later, alright? Once we get the brothers settled in it’ll be smooth sailing for the rest of the night and we’ll have each other all to oursel-”

“THE **_FUCK_** WAS ALL THAT RACKET?!” Goddammit, more headaches. Specifically the one shaped like a certain arachnid porn star, apparently in full drag out today with his hair styled and blended with a wig of a similar pink-white hue and a form-fitting pink and creamy white-striped dress with a low cut deliberately crafted to aid the illusion that his massive amounts of chest fluff were breasts. “I gotta get ready for a show tonight since I need the cash, and how am I supposed to get my makeup perfected if you guys cause this building to fucking explo-“

Angel Dust’s ire evaporated as his attention turned to the unfamiliar occupants in the lobby, more specifically the red coat-wearing hunk who’d just finished signing the paperwork and was drawn to the sound of Angel’s complaining in curiosity. “ _…Sweet fuckin’ BUDDHA IN A BOX!_ ” Angel grinned widely in excitement, his gold tooth gleaming in the light as he rushed down the stairs and slid across the counter in a seductive pose, stopping at just the right distance to both knock the guestbook and clipboard to the floor and for he and Dante to get better looks at each other. “Hey there hot stuff, come here often?”

Dante smiled as it seemed his fortune had finally changed for the better. About damn time! Finally, the babes are flocking to him instead of trying to shoot him! “Nope, today’s my first day in this fine establishment. But my brother and I plan on staying here for quite a while. Maybe in that time you and I can get to know each other better, beautiful! My name’s Dante, what about _you_ , Angel face?” Despite long since selling Lucifer off to pay for his establishment’s debts, Dante never lost its ability to spontaneously generate roses as the need presented itself. An ability he demonstrated by handing one to Angel, seemingly oblivious to how mannish Angel’s voice actually was.

“ _Ooh-hoo-hoo!_ You’re actually pretty close, handsome! The name’s Angel _Dust_.” Angel took the rose and stuck it somewhere in his wig. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself!” Angel eyed Dante up and down, not even caring about the obvious fact that he was indistinguishable from a normal human, he liked what he saw! Gorgeous silver hair, chiseled features, manly facial hair, muscles for days, a nice fat bulge in his pan-OH MY GOD THAT HAD TO BE AT **_LEAST_** 10 INCHES! Screw the show, he needed Dante and he needed him BAD. Angel dust sat up on the counter, trailing one of his fingers along Dante’s chest and stroking his chin with one on one of his other hands. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’re you in for, hmm? What’s a good-looking _stud_ like you doing in a fuckin’ dump of an afterlife like this?”

“Hmm…” Dante scratched his head, feigning an attempt at introspection. “Lemme see… In terms of the Seven Deadlies, I’d say I checked off at least half of them.” Dante counted them out on his fingers. “Porn addiction, Lust, Check. Living off Pizza and Sweets too much, Gluttony, double check. I’ve probably put the smack down on a few clowns when I was feeling moody, Wrath, check. I’ve had plenty of days when I just couldn’t be bothered to do anything, Sloth, checkaroo. I used to think I was some pretty hot stuff back in my youth, definitely big on Pride, check. …Can’t say I was ever too big on Envy or Greed though. What about you gorgeous? What brought you to this pit of woe and punishment?” Dante asked, sneakily putting one hand on Angel’s shoulder and another on ‘her’ hip.

_Ooooooh, getting handsy!_ A man who knows what he wants and goes for it, Angel could definitely respect that. “Ohh, a little Drug abuse here, some organized crime there, a whole LOT of promiscuity a little bit of everywhere…” Angel wrapped his legs around Dante’s waist, holding the side of Dante’s head with two of his hands. “I’ve been _veeeeeery_ naughty, Dante. I’ve done a lot of baaaaaad shit. _I need to be punished~”_ Angel Dust leaned in closer and whispered breathily in Dante’s ear. “What’s say a big, strong, handsome guy like you helps straighten me out?~” _Preferably in his bed and fucking him senseless six ways from Sunday._

The longer Angel talked to him, the more Dante felt the Devil Sword he kept in his lower holster twitch and stiffen in excitement. If Dante played his cards right he’d be pulling his Devil Trigger and hitting Angel’s Jackpot in no time! “That’s quite the offer you’re making Angel. _I think I might just take you up on it!”_ Dante pursed his lips and leaned forward to meet Angel’s own, ready and waiting for him…

“ ** _AH-HEM!_** ”

Goddammit. The pair’s bonding was interrupted by faces of judgement on both sides. Alastor had cleared his throat, his eyes giving an irritated and embarrassed glare behind his trademark ear-to-ear grin behind Angel Dust. Behind Dante stood an annoyed Vaggie with her arms crossed and next to her, a clearly flustered, blushing Charlie with her mouth covered by her hands. Vergil, still unable to move himself, looked upon the scenario that nearly unfolded before him with a mixture of resigned disappointment and secondhand embarrassment on his face. Across the way, Husk turned away from the scene and downed another bottle of Cheap Booze, hoping that blacking out would be able to scrub the experience from his memory. The normally hyperactive and chipper Nifty looked at Angel and Dante in what almost appeared to be an envious pout, annoyed at how easily Angel was able to get action without even trying.

Angel scowled in Alastor’s direction, glaring at the Radio Demon with a pair of hands on his hips, a third poking Alastor in the chest. “You mind explaining why you just decided to Cockblock me, Al?”

“ _Certainly._ ” Alastor replied with a hint of aggravated bile in his voice, swatting Angel’s finger away. “Before you two violate the hotel’s decency policy, I’d like to suggest you take these keys and escort the Sparda brothers to their separate rooms. _That way you and Dante can continue your little fling and have your own sense of privacy, **away from us**._” Alastor’s eye twitched as he handed two keys numbered 607 and 608 to Angel Dust, gesturing him to shoo off the counter.

“Hate to say it Doll, but Al’s probably right. I’ve already gotten on the Staff’s nerves enough today. But hey, my door’s open for you anytime, sweetheart.” Dante winked, tipping Vergil’s still bound body over to pick him up by the shoulders and drag him upstairs.

Angel’s mood flipped back to a more pleasant tone of voice. “Well it doesn’t look like it’ll be much of a walk, ‘cause my room’s 609! Dunno about you, but that seems pretty easy to remember for me!” Angel looked up and noticed Dante being shouted at by his brother as he appeared to be making it harder for himself to carry Vergil up to his room. “…How about I lend you a hand, toots? Or better yet, how about Six?” Angel’s hidden third pair of arms popped out from the lower end of his waist as he bent over to grab Vergil’s legs.

Vergil glared at the spider demon with clear contempt. “Touch me, and I will run you through with my sword once I escape this infernal asylum.”

Angel’s eyes widened in surprise at the severity of the threat, glancing up to look at Dante to confirm if he’d actually do it. …Before a mischievous grin crept across his face in realization, a realization that Dante had also shared; _Vergil had no clue what he just set himself up for_. “ _Ohh, you can stick your sword inside me anytime, Daddy!~”_ Angel had cooed in mocking seduction, taking delight in the sheer **_disgust and anger_** in Vergil’s eyes.

Dante had begun to laugh so hard at the exchange that he spent a full 30 seconds doubled over in a wheezing guffaw, dropping Vergil’s head on the stairs in the process, adding injury to insult. “Beautiful AND Hilarious!” Dante picked his brother back up with one hand and pointing at Angel with the other. “You! I like you! I think you and I are gonna get along juuuuuust fine, Angel.” Dante hauled his ‘half’ of Vergil up the steps backwards, Angel holding his share of the weight and following close behind.

As Angel and the Sparda brothers disappeared from sight, Vaggie sighed and rubbed her temples. “Oh God, there’s two of them now.”

Charlie blinked in sudden realization. “Wait a second, shouldn’t we tell Dante that Angel Dust is a man? If we don’t-“

“Sssssshhhhhhhhh!” Alastor brought a finger to Charlie’s lips. “Let him figure it out on his own. When he does it’s going to be Hilarious!” Alastor tittered to himself, shoving the forms and papers Dante filled out into Vaggie’s hands and pulling Nifty back to her cleaning duties.

Vaggie looked to Charlie, a sense of annoyance and desperation in her voice. “Still think we’re not biting off more than we can chew?”

Charlie wrapped her arm around her darling’s shoulder and leaned against her. “Don’t worry about it, babe. From here on out tonight’s going to be about you and me and nobody else! Besides, how much of a hassle could they possibly be?”

====================================================================================================================================================================================


	2. Immediate Jobber Professionals Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moxxie and Millie have been enjoying their day off when an urgent call from Blitzo sours the mood. I.M.P. has been hired to take out a mysterious young man with Silver hair and have been promised an absurd amount of money for their troubles, but will the job be more than they bargained for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day! 
> 
> I meant to post this like a week ago, but illness in the family has kept me busy. Far too busy. I had more that I meant to post along with this, but as you can probably guess by the "Part 1" I've split it in half.
> 
> Or more like two thirds and one third, but same difference. I was gonna wait until it was done, but in light of Viv releasing the full "Oh Millie" Music Video today I went "fuck it" and I'm gonna post the second half later. 
> 
> I was a fool to think I'd be able to churn these out on a Two Week Average basis, but I can still try at least. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and I hope I've got the gang's personalities down properly!

Hell by its very creation isn’t meant to be a pleasurable experience. Though in a quite literally Godless hole one will quickly find that the inhabitants will swiftly carve their own pecking order of Social Darwinism where the oldest and most powerful of the Damned call the shots and those at the bottom are left to scramble to climb up to any form of security. Lucifer and the rest of the Magnes stand at the top as the royal family over all of Hell. Below them are the Nobility, ancient demonic lords and beasts spoken of and feared on earth as holders of infernal power the likes of which no mortal could have any hope to match. Next were the Overlords, formerly especially wicked mortals even amongst Hell’s sinners, who rose in prominence and power to freely indulge in their vices and violent impulses with impunity. Below them were the myriad mixes of natural Hellborn Demon species and the Sinners too weak to resist temptations and likewise too weak to stand anywhere on the totem pole besides the position of ‘human shields for the purges.’ 

  
But no caste in Hell’s murky hierarchy stood lower than the absolute bottom of the barrel, the Imps. Despite being natural citizens of Hell, the race’s poor affinity for magic, weak constitutions, and general expendability granted them little favors or respect, even amongst their own ghetto given the unwarranted grandiose title of ‘Imp City.’ Sure, there were skyscrapers and an urban landscape comparable to that of any given Metropolis on Earth, but on Earth both the written and unspoken rules of society involving civility, charity, and law were made as way for mankind to coexist without automatically resorting to violence like some sort of animal. In Hell, no such luxury existed. 

  
Imps were the cannon fodder for which the Sinners and Hellborn alike used to wage their turf wars, and the first to feel the bite of the Exorcists’ spears when the time for the Purge came. They were most typically found in positions of slave labor, when they even had the opportunities for work to begin with. Imp city was a hotbed for poverty, homelessness and disease even by the typical standards of Hell. With poverty came crime, and with crime comes violence, and when it comes to the denizens of Imp City life WAS violence more of than not. One might wake up one day to find their necks slashed, their head caved in by way of bludgeoning, their torso subjected to countless stab wounds and their neck crushed via strangulation. And if one was lucky they would eventually reform and regenerate by way of the healing factor and resilience which demons possessed. But when one’s assailant carried an Angelic weapon, or something forged from its Heavenly ore, then one could simply kiss existence goodbye, for wounds given by such weapons would never heal and sufficient dismemberment equaled to a final death. The constant struggle of afterlife and permanent death created a culture of paranoia and resentment between one and another so severe that it was a miracle that there was even an Imp population still standing.

  
And yet a ‘Miracle’ truly was the best way to describe it, for even in the lowest, rock bottom impoverished urban blight that was Imp City, citizens were still able to find the candle lights of mutual love in the sea of unending sin and darkness to huddle together for much-needed warmth and affection. There was no better example of this than Moxxie and Millie, assassins for the barely-above-water contract killing agency known as the Immediate Murder Professionals. Millie provided him with the affection and kindness that Moxxie never received from his own family, and in turn Moxxie was the artist who wooed her with his skills as both a hired killer and as a tender, sensitive musician. 

  
Blitzo may have been an incompetent employer in virtually every aspect, but if there was one thing that Moxxie could compliment him for it was being gracious enough to give the couple a day off every Saturday (even if it usually involved him spying on them during their private lives for seemingly no reason than his own personal amusement). Moxxie would chase him off in a rage every time, but until the moment when Blitzo was discovered, he’d make the most of his alone time with his darling Millie any way he could, typically through serenading her with the assistance of his trusted guitar. 

“ _Girl I want to shed some blood_  
 _You’ve got me wishin’ I could feed them some bleach_  
 _Come on now, let’s make ‘em bleed_  
 _I know you’re crazy, don't mind me”_

The only thing Moxxie loved more than singing with his wife is when Millie would join in and turn his performances into a duet.

_“Say, boy, let's not talk too much_   
_Snap their necks and toss their bodies to me_   
_Come on now, follow my lead_   
_Come, come on now, let them bleed”_

The Imp pair twisted entwined their tails together into a spiral capped with a heart as Moxxie continued his performance, staring into Millie’s adoring eyes all the while as the two harmonized with each other.

_“I'm in love with the acts you do_   
_Smashing skulls and brains to goo_   
_Rip some hearts, microwave them too_   
_I'm in love with your carnage_   
_Like last night when we were in their room_   
_Now their bedsheets are red like you_   
_Every day discovering something brand new_   
_I'm in love with your carnage._   
_Oh—I—oh—I—oh—I—oh—I_   
_I'm in love with your carnage_   
_Oh—I—oh—I—oh—I—oh—I_   
_I'm in love with your carnage_   
_Oh—I—oh—I—oh—I—oh—I_   
_I'm in love with your carnage_   
_Every day discovering something brand new_   
_I'm in love with the acts you do.”_

Moxxie moved in to meet Millie’s pursed, waiting lips when the moment was killed by Moxxie’s phone buzzing with an ever-ill timed call from their boss. God fucking dammit. Blitzo’s uncanny ability to destroy their romantic atmosphere was enough to cause Moxxie to pull his hair out sometimes. And by ‘sometimes’ he meant ‘all the time.’ 

  
Moxxie muttered a curse beneath his breath as he took the phone and put it on speaker. “Sir, what exactly is the point of you giving us a day off if you’re going to harass us anyway?” This had better be good.

  
“Evenin’ Moxxie, a pleasure speaking to you as always.” There it was, Blitzo’s trademark barb of sarcasm immediately preceding whatever asinine business venture he cooked up this time delivered in a state of deluded upbeat tone. “I’ve got good news for you lovebirds! We’ve got a new contract! One that’s VERY promising!”

  
Millie grinned, always eager for another opportunity to beat in some schmuck’s cranium or slice off a scrotum or two. Moxxie on the other hand pinched he bridge of what passed for his nose and sighed. “Again, sir, it’s our day off as decreed by YOU. Can it not wait until tomorrow?” 

  
Blitzo scoffed from the other end of the line. “Aren’t you the one always complaining about our quote-unquote ‘budgetary issues?’”

  
“I wouldn’t NEED to keep complaining if you’d listen to me just _once_ in your life and stop spending our funds on expenses that don’t pay off!” Moxxie scowled, he had been employed by Blitzo long enough for his blood pressure to spike upward even this early into the argument. “What’s so damn special about this contract compared to our usual work that requires you to bother us _now_ of all times?” 

  
“Well first and foremost our client’s promised us a SHITTON of _moneeeeeyyyyyyyyy.~_ ” Blitzo proclaimed in a sing-song tone of voice. And as if he could see Moxxie’s skeptically raised eyebrow immediately followed up with a clarification. “About _**FIFTY MILLION BUCKS**_ to be precise.”

  
Millie gasped and Moxxie’s skepticism evaporated into an expression of utter disbelief. There’s no damn way Blitzo said the number he heard, is there? “You’re… Yo-you’re shitting me, sir. There’s no way anyone would spend that much cash on us.” 

  
Blitzo chuckled giddily. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll get Loona to send you a screencap of the application. And also, the Client said he wanted it done as quick as possible, so that’s why I’m telling you two to get your shit prepped and get ready for pickup.” 

  
Millie’s phone buzzed from inside her pocket. It was an image texted to her via Loona’s (blocked) number of exactly what Blitzo claimed; a low-quality screengrab of a completed Target identification form displayed on Blitzo’s computer. Of course. The man couldn’t grasp technological literacy for shit, but that also meant that there’s no way he photoshopped that application. It was legit.  
But one problem remained. “I can’t make out who sent this to us, it’s too bright.” Millie chimed in.

  
“Ehhh, some old guy with horns and a blue rock in his forehead dressed in his nightgown. Sandals? Samus? Some bullshit like that, it’s not important.” Blitzo verbally waved off the question. “What IS important is WHO we’re after. Some punkass kid he’s got a beef with. And he said he’d pay us extra if we took out his girlfriend too!” 

  
The deal sounded almost too good to be true. With that kind of cash, even if they split it amongst I.M.P.’s four employees Moxxie and Millie could easily afford to move out of this miserable dump and find a decent apartment in Pentagram city. “He must hate ‘em really bad if he’s willing to shell out that much cash to have them offed!” Millie giggled, already cooking up ways to feed them their own intestines. 

  
Moxxie, still in gobsmacked disbelief, couldn’t help but prod for details. “Are you POSITIVE this guy’s got enough to follow up on his end of the deal?” Last thing they needed to waste their time and energy on what turned out to be a scam.

  
Blitzo’s tone of voice however made it clear he wasn’t worried about such concerns. “The Guy paid us five grand upfront and said he’d give us the rest when we were done. And I used that money for a new van!” 

  
Moxxie could feel his eye twitch. “You spent the money we desperately need to pay off expenses… on a van. That we don’t need. When we have a BOOK which we use to teleport us into the world of the living that can take us ANYWHERE on earth.” Moxxie was VERY much looking forward to blowing off some steam by riddling the target’s body full of bullets.

  
“Hey, it’ll help us blend in. And it’s convenient travel for all of us!” Blitzo protested.

  
“WE HAVE GLAMOUR FOR THAT!” Moxxie shouted, feeling as though he could crush the phone in his hands at any second from sheer anger.

  
“Mox, Mox, hey! Sweetie, calm yourself!” Millie hugged her husband, rubbing his temples. “You let that blood pressure go any higher you’re likely to explode, honey.” 

  
Moxxie grumbled before inhaling a sharp breath and exhaling slowly. No sense in trying to talk Blitzo into refunding the damn thing at this point. “Fine then. Who’s our target?”

“Lemme see here uhh… Says it’s some guy named Nero.” Blitzo muttered something about him having a weird name.

“Nero… what?” Moxxie inquired.

“It… says he doesn’t have a last name. That he’s an orphan or something.” Blitzo shrugged.

Moxxie nearly had a stroke at the news, asking through clenched teeth. “And how exactly are we supposed to find one guy in a world of Seven Billion plus with _NO LAST NAME?!_ ” 

“Easy! By going to this address in some British Podunk called uhhh… Redgrave City. And looking for some hole in the wall called ‘Devil May Cry.’”

Millie’s phone buzzed again, and this time the phone received an image of their mark; a slim young man with pale skin and short hair that seemed to be… Silver? “The Client says we can’t miss him, that hair’s all natural.” 

Devil May Cry? What was that, some kind of bar? Strip club? Moxxie figured that cocky look on his punchable face made him seem like the kind of punk to work at some establishment like that. Millie smiled and grabbed Moxxie’s shoulder. “That doesn’t sound so bad does it? We can bag this kid and be home in time for that candlelit dinner you planned for, hon! This’ll be a snap!” 

Moxxie sighed, unable to argue against his wife and her optimism. “…Alright fine. We’ll grab our stuff and get ready for pickup.” 

“Excellent!” Blitzo beamed. “And grab as much guns, knives and whatever you can drag with ya, because our Client says the reason he’s offering so much is because apparently this ‘Nero’ is tough to deal with, and recommends catching him off guard. So this whole thing’s gonna be like ripping off a Band-Aid; faster we get it done the better.” 

Moxxie quizzically raised an eyebrow, looking back at the photo of Nero. “He doesn’t look so intimidating, sir. In fact, he looks like a tryhard. What kind of idiot uses a Revolver with two barrels? If you fire that thing you’ll need to reload twice as fast, and that’s assuming the damn thing doesn’t break your wrist from the recoil with how big it is!” Moxxie prided himself on his status as the weapons specialist of I.M.P., and that gigantic pistol Nero was holding in the photograph made his inner gun aficionado scream in agony from a tactical, logistical standpoint. Fucking humans and their constant need to overcompensate. 

“All the more reason this’ll be a cakewalk then, right?” Millie grinned, eager bloodlust plain as day in her eyes.

Moxxie smiled in return, admittedly Millie made a strong point. “Guess you’re right. Alright Blitzo, how long ‘til you come for pickup?”

“Right now!” Moxxie and Millie turned their heads to the window, seeing their boss knocking on it with his phone in his hand on the fire escape.

It took every single scrap of willpower Moxxie had to not grab the nearest pistol and cap Blitzo in the head with how much fury had overtaken him with that revelation. “ **DO YOU SERIOUSLY HAVE FUCKING NOTHING BETTER TO DO OTHER THAN BOTHER US IN OUR OWN HOME?!** ” Moxxie’s entire body shook like a cold, wet chihuahua as Blitzo pulled the window open and casually climbed inside. “ _Don’t you have your own home to sleep at?!_ ”

  
“ _Nah, that’s kinda why I got the van._ ” Blitzo muttered before rushing to Moxxie’s side and wrapping an arm around the smaller imp’s shoulder. “Regardless, just wanted to pop in to tell you Loona and I’ll be waiting on the ground floor, so do us a favor and get your tushies downstairs quick alright? Alright.” 

  
Oh great. He brought his bitch along too. Just what the mission needed, another headache in the form of his slutty pet with a bratty streak a mile wide. “Can’t wait, sir.” Moxxie grumbled, reaching for a nearby holster to shove into his jacket pocket. 

* * *

  
“Sir.” Moxxie pinched the bridge of his pseudo-nose once more, attempting to alleviate his frustration. “I thought you said part of the point of you getting this van was to ‘blend in’ with the human world.” 

“It is! And what could be more fitting than this?” Blitzo asked from the driver’s seat. The van they had parked across the street from the locale the client had mentioned, a seedy looking shop with the name ‘Devil May Cry’ spelled out in bright hot pink neon letters. Blitzo’s uncontrollable impulse for all things showy betrayed his claims of subtlety for the mission by virtue of the fact its sides had been painted to look like something out of a 70’s heavy metal album cover. 

The van had been painted with a portrait of a muscular bearded wizard riding a unicorn dueling against a dragon towering over the horse and rider with the black starry sky fading and blending with the rest of the van’s gaudy shade of purple the further it drifted from the main image. The Wizard cast lightning bolts from his fingertips as the Unicorn fired a rainbow-colored laser from its horn to counter the fire spewing from the Dragon’s maw. Moxxie had frequented the internet enough times to understand that things like this were the sort of stuff that’d be featured on front pages to meme websites the world over, and any rando passerby snapping a picture of them on his phone is a risk of being discovered by the mark, even if a remote and unlikely one. 

“Oh, I don’t know, why don’t you just write ‘free candy’ on the sides instead?” Moxxie threw up his hands behind Loona’s seat in biting sarcasm. “Who knows? Maybe this Nero guy has a bad case of sweet tooth we could use to lure him inside!” 

“And soil the masterpiece crafted by the gentleman I purchased this from? Moxxie, I thought you were supposed to be the art lover!” Blitzo scoffed, eyeing the entrance to the building through his binoculars. 

“Would it have killed you to vacuum out this damn thing before you took us on a road trip?” Loona asked through watering eyes and a running nose in the passenger’s seat at Blitzo’s side. “Fucking allergy city up in this bitch.” Her mobile phone games could only distract her from it so much, if they stayed for too much longer, she’d be liable to gnaw her coworkers' heads off.

“Hang on sweetie, once we off this chump we’ll be out of here and get some meds for ya.” Blitzo pat his darling Hellhound’s head, blissfully unaware of Loona’s irritated expression. 

“And how long’s that gonna take, boss?” Millie asked in a bored tone from the backseat, sharpening one her knives. “I’ve been itching for a good scrap all day!” 

“Well put some ointment on it, because all we need is a good headshot and we’ll be 50 Mil richer. Got that rifle ready, Mox?” Blitzo motioned to the smaller Imp.

Moxxie pulled a rifle from a tote bag in the floor of the van, a rifle that he would be quick to identify to Blitzo as a M1903 Springfield Bolt action rifle. Were he alone with Millie he would begin a long spiel on the history of M1903 and its long history spanning the First World War to the early stages of Vietnam, and he knew regaling its long history of bloodshed would leave his wife swooning. But alas, he was on the clock. “Right here, Sir.” Moxxie affirmed as he attached the scope. “You see the target yet?”

“Nah, no sign of him-ooh! The Door’s opening!” Blitzo’s tail twitched excitedly as he spotted the Silver-haired punk exiting the building, nonchalantly waving to whoever was inside as the door closed.

“Moxxie bring that gun over here and get ready! He’s about to leave!” The taller Imp motioned to his cohort as Nero made his way to an RV with another ‘Devil May Cry’ neon sign on its side. 

Moxxie slid in beside his boss, resting the barrel of the rifle on the open windowsill of the Wizard van. The sharpshooting imp looked into the scope and balked at the sight of Nero’s sword on his back.

“…Good God, what is that abomination he calls a sword?!” Were those… Exhaust pipes? Like on a Motorcycle? Satan’s ballsack, Moxxie was going to throw up if focused too much on it, if Loona’s constant sniffling and rivers of snot wouldn’t prompt him to first.

“All the more reason for you to focus on his damn head instead of what’s on his back. Now take the shot!” Blitzo ordered his marksman coworker, who for once was in total agreement with him. Moxxie lined up his crosshairs with Nero’s head, exhaling to steady his aim. Slowly, Moxxie started to squeeze the trigger as Loona’s nose began to feel an ill-timed itch. 

“ _Ah… ah…!_ _**ACHOO!!**_ ” 

“SHIT!” Moxxie involuntarily jerked the rifle upward as he fired, and as the shot rang out the bullet had hit a bird that had come to rest upon the top of Nico’s RV instead of its intended recipient. Nero turned his head back to the Wizard van with Blue Rose drawn and pointed at the ready, scanning for anyone out to do him harm, only to find no one on the streets and curiously, no one in the front seat of that ridiculously painted van across the way. With suspicious reluctance, Nero re-holstered his gun and made his way to the passenger’s side of the van, muttering about how Redgrave’s neighborhood was even less pleasant than he thought.

As the Devil Hunter’s RV roared to life and drove past I.M.P.’s vehicle, Millie had dropped the invisibility glamour disguise that had narrowly saved them from one potentially very angry Devil Slayer. The occupants of the van sighed in a mixture of relief and disappointment as Blitzo turned to face his employee irritably. 

  
“Hey Moxxie, you mind explaining to me what the fuck was THAT?” Blitzo narrowed his eyes in anger, starting the van’s engine. “Aren’t you supposed to be our crack sniper?”

“That, sir…” Moxxie spat back at his employer “Is what happens when you don’t give allergy medication to your damn dog! She sneezed so loud I’m surprised she didn’t wake the whole neighborhood!” 

“Did any of y’all see where they went?” Millie questioned, wishing desperately for the conversation topic to change as she handed a Handkerchief to the still suffering Loona. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m on it.” Blitzo shifted into drive and took off in pursuit. So there was a minor setback. Big deal. They’ll get him eventually. 

* * *

“Seriously Nico? Here of all fucking places?!” Nero wasn’t exactly known for his patience, but the tone of his voice made it clear that his normally merely annoying partner and mechanic was a hair’s breadth from being choked. 

“It ain’t no big deal if I keep it inside the RV, right?” The unbothered brunette asked before taking a drag from a newly-lit cigarette.

“We’re at a damn GAS STATION! Put that shit out before you blow us to Kingdom Come!” Nero angrily gestured to the pumps he was about to get out and use. “Better yet, get one of those Nicotine patches, that shit’ll kill you either way.”   
  
The Gas station was as filthy and dilapidated as one would expect from an inner city truck stop. The place gave a palpable aura of grime even from the outset, from old coats of chipped paint around the building to the gum on the ground that Nero had stepped on, to even the slight amounts of rust around the pumps. Nero didn't even want to know what horrors awaited him if he was desperate enough to subject himself to their bathrooms. He almost envied those workers across the street hauling furniture and who knows what else to a house across the street from them. Were those bags of fertilizer? Someone must have their own little garden in this shithole town. 

“God, alright, fine!” Nico whined as Nero slammed the door shut, only to pop it back into her mouth and inhale when she concluded her partner was out of sight.

As Nero stuck the nozzle into the gas cap, I.M.P. pulled their van to a vacant lot near the front of the gas station’s convenience store. The Side door opened up and Millie stepped out, grabbing a set of knives from her bag. Millie would’ve loved nothing more than to bring out something heavier like her Warhammer, Axe, or that beautiful, 6-foot Lowlander sword Moxxie bought for her birthday, but Blitzo was insistent on doing this quickly and quietly. 

“Good luck hon.” Moxxie pulled his wife back to give her a quick kiss on the lips. 

Millie smiled and hugged Moxxie tight. “Don’t worry sweetie, this little shit’s not gonna know what hit ‘im!” 

Millie darted behind the pump across from Nero, then to the other side of the one he was using. He was oblivious, whistling some song as he held the nozzle in place. Millie climbed up the pump, readying herself to stab Nero’s back with a wicked grin on her face…

“Hey punkass, what’s takin' so long?!” A southern drawl shouted from the RV’s driver seat. Shit! Gotta hide before he turns around and spots her. Millie dove behind the pump to hide from Nero as he turned his head to yell back at Nico.

“Keep your damn pants on! Not my fault you burned so much fuel between our last jobs!” Nero turned back to the nozzle, muttering under his breath about Nico’s uncanny ability to piss him off.

Millie peaked from behind the pump, Nero didn’t notice her. Good. But one wrong step and maybe he would. She needed a distraction. Millie climbed to the top of the pump again and took the hose connected the nozzle was holding. She severed it and then pointed the end to splash Nero with Gasoline before darting back behind the pump, silently chuckling to herself at hearing Nero sputter and spit out whatever got in his mouth.

“Ah dammit, what the Hell?!” Nero looked at the now useless nozzle in his hand and followed the limp hose up to the trail of fuel spilling out from the top of the pump. “Just my fucking luck.” Nero tossed the nozzle aside into the increasingly large pool of gas and closed the cap before knocking on Nico’s window to roll it down. 

“Jesus buddy, ya smell like shit.” Nico candidly proclaimed, the smell of gas on Nero overpowering even the cigarette smoke on her. 

“The hose is broke.” Nero tersely answered, neither party noticing Millie diving beneath the RV, crawling to stab at Nero’s Achilles Tendon. “Pull over to the next one and I’ll finish up.” 

“Man, you’re gonna need at least three more showers before you come home to Kyrie.” Nico laughed as she pulled the shift into reverse, not even noticing the bump as the tire rolled over Millie before the imp could reach at Nero, tears of pain welling up in her eyes. The only thing that stopped Nero from noticing her was her using what little brain function she could spare to cast another invisibility glamour on herself and covering her mouth to muffle her squeal of agony, too crippled at the moment to do much about the fact that the pool of excess gasoline was now starting to soak her too.

As Nero restarted the fueling process, Millie’s demonic regeneration began to kick in, causing her spine and ribs to reassemble and giving her the strength to crawl behind the pump Nero had moved to, not even caring about the trail of gasoline that followed from her dragging her belly along the ground. A distraught Moxxie looked at Millie about to rush out to grab her, but Millie urged him to stay put and keep quiet, she almost had him. And now she was pissed. Son of a bitch lucked out in getting away from her, but that was about to change. 

“Hey Nero.” Nico rolled down her window to catch his attention. “How about some snacks for the road? I’m all out of the Barbecue chips.” 

“Seriously?” Nero asked annoyed. “You want ‘em so bad why don’t YOU get ‘em?” 

“’Cause you’re the one who’s already outside of the car and the one with the cash!” Nico lazily waved her arm outside the window, not even glancing his direction as Millie climbed up the pump with knife in hand, about to pounce. 

“…Fine.” Nero set the nozzle to pump automatically and stormed off just in time for Millie slam face-first into the side of the RV, the only thing stopping Nero from seeing her being Moxxie grabbing her tail and pulling her beneath the RV's underside. 

“The Hell was that?” Nico jolted from her seat to look out the window.

“Dunno.” Nero shrugged before heading to the store. “Probably a bird or something.”

Moxxie hugged Millie tight. “Are you okay, hon?” He couldn’t help but cradle Millie’s head in his arms. 

“I’m alright, sugar.” Millie smiled, gently pulling herself from Moxxie’s grip. “Just a little pressed is all.” No way one damn human could be so lucky. “Where’s the fuckin’ gas tank on this thing? We can light up the trail it leaves behind and then him and that redneck bimbo will go up in flames.” 

“I don’t know much about vehicles, but I think I’ve got something simpler here.” Moxxie held a plastic gas canister in one hand and a roll of duct tape in the other. “We attach this to the underside of the RV, pull off the cap and light up the trail it leaves behind before they take off.”

“And watch the fireworks!” Millie giggled, imagining the display and envisioning discovering Nero and Nico’s charred corpses in the wreckage. 

“I love the way you put it, honey.” Moxxie sighed dreamily. He handed Millie the tape as he held the canister up to the underside of the RV. Millie swaddled the canister with the roll of adhesive as Moxxie angled the spout so it’d pour to the ground. With the canister in position, the imp pair retreated at the sight of Nero irritably stomping his way back to the RV. 

“Here’s your damn chips, you pig.” Nero tossed them through the window into Nico’s lap, ignoring Nico’s surprised irritation as he strolled to his car door, slamming it shut as he slid in his seat. The RV’s engine rumbled to life, and the imps uncapped the canister, letting the contents pool out to the ground parallel to the RV. The RV sped off above them, and the imp couple high-fived at the salvaging of the mission.

“Thanks for the assist, honey.” Millie kissed her husband, causing his face to redden further than usual.

“What are husbands for?” Moxxie scratched the back of his head, flustered. “Now let’s light the fuse. You got a lighter?”

“Yeah sure, it’s right… Oh.” Millie searched her pocket and pulled out a broken plastic butane lighter. “…Dammit, must’ve been crushed when they ran over me.”

“No worries, I’ve got one.” Moxxie pulled out a much sturdier looking Zippo lighter and attempted to ignite it. Moxxie then attempted again. And again. And several times after that. “Son of a… I can’t ever get the timing on this thing right.” 

Meanwhile in the RV, Nico attempted to light up another cigarette as discretely as possible while still behind the wheel until Nero caught her in the act.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, NICO?!” He shouted. “NOW? OF ALL TIMES?! WHEN I’M GODDAMN SOAKED HEAD TO TOE WITH THIS SHIT?!” 

“It ain’t the liquid, it’s the fumes.” Nico retorted. “Long as you stay on your side of the RV we shouldn’t have any problems.” 

“Or! How about _this?!_ ” Nero grabbed both the cigarette and the lighter from Nico’s hands and tossed them out her window. 

“Hey! I need those!” 

“Trust me, no you don’t. Starting tomorrow you’re gonna be kicking that habit for all our sakes.” Nero groaned in disbelief, ignoring Nico’s muttering about her ‘being an adult capable of making her own choices.’ 

Unbeknownst to both of the Devil Hunting partners, the still ignited lighter landed right in the trail of gasoline from the canister Moxxie and Millie attached to the RV, and a trail of flame rushed its way back to the gas station. Nico’s penchant for speeding scared off the pair of movers carrying a bag of fertilizer, dropping it on the trail of gasoline and stopping the flames from reaching their intended target.

“So uh, what’s the holdup, guys?” With the target out of sight, Blitzo had walked up to his employees, still struggling with the zippo lighter. “Mind telling me why our mark currently getting away?” 

“We’re workin’ on it boss!” Millie saluted as Loona nonchalantly strolled out of the convenience store eating from an open, stolen bag of chips. “We left a little surprise for ‘em that we just need to light up and they’ll be as good as gone!”

“Got it!” Moxxie finally managed to ignite the lighter and prepared to drop it on the trail before a realization stuck him. “…Guys, what are we standing in?”

Everyone looked down and realized that around their feet was a still growing pool of gasoline from the severed pump hose Millie had cut. And to make matters worse, the group had noticed that Moxxie and Millie’s plan had quite literally backfired on them as the fire from the ignited trail of gasoline snaked its way to them. 

When the fire reached the pump and the pool that the workers of I.M.P. stood in, only one thought passed through the collective minds of the infernal assassins and their Hellhound secretary: 

_**‘Ohh Shit.'** _

Nero was an experienced Demon Slayer and Nico was someone so fearless that he would at times wonder if she was legitimately insane. But both of the pair were shaken from their seats at the sound of the explosion behind them. Nero peaked his head out his window while Nico looked in the rearview mirror at the scene. The store itself was charred, but mostly okay while the pumps had gone up in flames. 

Nico sheepishly turned her eyes back to the road as the sound of fire engine sirens blared past them. “…Maybe I do have a bit of a problem, huh?” Nero shook his head in vexed disbelief, wondering how much this might cost if anyone tried to pin this on them.

Blitzo, Moxie, Millie and Loona were blasted into the middle of the road, blackened, singed, coughing, sputtering, and sore on every inch of their bodies. Demonic regeneration would soon allow them to get up and move through the pain, but for the time being they were stuck and at the mercy of whatever would come on the road.

“Well…” Blitzo wheezed. “At least our van’s okay. Silver linings!” Indeed, the Van had almost miraculously been untouched through the affair due to the angle it was parked next to the convenience store. As soon as he and the others could stand up again, they’d just need to limp over and plot their next move.

“Blitz?” Loona asked through a coughing spasm. 

“Yeah honey?” Blitz responded, attempting to lift his arms and earning an involuntary hiss of pain from his own mouth as reward.

“I call dibs on the next plan.” Loona was quickly losing patience her coworker’s methods. And when she was losing patience, she needed to blow off steam. And when she needed to blow of steam, people got hurt. Badly.

Before Blitzo or any of the others could respond or protest, the sounds of sirens filled the air right as the quartet were able to sit themselves up. A large block of red and silver that the demonic group would quickly recognize as a fire truck had sped towards them and knocked them to the ground, its tires crushing their legs and arms, prompting wails of further agony from all four of the hellish denizens.

* * *

  
Thanks to a spontaneous traffic jam and a roadwork-based detour, the crew of I.M.P. had been given a boon of having Nero and Nico being directed to a narrow road that the Imps had scoped out prior and discovered that there was a point where any drivers would be forced into crossing a single, small bridge. With the advantage of Stolas’s Grimoire, the infernal assassins were able to open a portal back to their ‘company warehouse’ to gather the hefty amount of explosives that they had placed upon the underside of said bridge. A long, singular fuse trailed from the middle of the pile that they had assembled, and at Loona’s signal Blitzo would light it and with the proper timing the explosives would detonate and if the explosion didn’t get them, then falling into car-crushing ravine the bridge covered would guarantee it. 

Loona stood behind a nearby tree, seeing the DMC RV speeding their way through the binoculars in her hands. “Alright guys, let’s light ‘em up!” She pointed to Blitzo, currently hold a lit match in one hand and the fuse in the other. 

“One fire in the hole, comin’ up!” Blitzo lit the fuse and his fellow imps crowded beside him and Loona as they watched the spark travel along further and further. Within moments the fuse had reached the payload right as the Devil May Cry RV crossed the bridge…

…And nothing happened. The RV kept on its course, and the explosives remained intact, contrary to their purpose. Loona and the imps stood in slack-jawed incredulity, before Loona screamed with anger, running toward the pile of dynamite and stockpiled explosives in a rage. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! A _DUD!?_ ” Loona’s anger boiled over, punching the assorted boxes and sticks of dynamite in a fit of fury as she stood on one of the bridge’s crossbeams. 

“Loona, sweetie, I don’t think you should mess with those.” Blitzo urged his adopted Hellhound daughter. 

“Why not?!” Loona screamed, kicking the nearest fallen stick of dynamite into the ravine. “After all they’re just fucking useless, stupid fucking DUDS-“ Loona’s rage was cut short as her punch to the central dynamite stick the fuse was attached to caused it and the entire payload to detonate. Loona screamed in pain as she was flung into the air, tossed by the force straight into the tree, smoking and singed to a crisp. 

“ _Owwww…_ ” Normally Loona would be enraged further by such utter humiliation, but the pain that had wracked her body was so overwhelming she couldn’t even spare the energy to be angry. Loona whimpered with soreness as Blitzo and the others peeled her off the tree bark and carried her to the Wizard Van. 

“Alright, next up is my turn.” Blitzo proclaimed, laying Loona in the back of their van placing a pillow beneath her head. “And what I’ve got in store I can assure you won’t blow up in our faces!” 

* * *

  
“Sir.” Moxxie rubbed his temples in tempered irritation. “This has to be one of the dumbest plans you’ve ever had. And trust me, you don’t make that a very easy list to organize!” 

“Listen Moxxie I know you like it when Millie pegs you, but that doesn’t mean you can go around with a stick in your ass 24/7.” Blitzo fired back, putting the finishing touches on the work of ‘art’ that was to be the surefire, foolproof plan to stop Nero and Nico dead in their tracks. The ‘art’ in question was an illusionary tunnel painted upon the side of a building, the DMC RV would be lured into the alleyway where said ‘tunnel’ would be placed via impromptu ‘detour’ created with what was left of the explosives I.M.P. had in their warehouse. And when the RV inevitably crashed against the wall, Millie and Loona would finish the job by dropping the suspended two ton safe on top of the wreckage to flatten Nero like a pancake. 

“Sir, you got this idea from a series of CARTOONS!” Moxxie protested in frustration. “Cartoons in which, need I remind you, IT NEVER WORKS! **AND I’D _ALSO_ LIKE TO REMIND YOU WHAT MILLIE AND I DO IN OUR PRIVATE TIME IS _NONE OF YOUR SATANFORSAKEN BUSINESS!!_ ” **

“That my dear Moxxie is because they’re CARTOONS. We don’t live in a cartoon, Moxxie. We live in the real world!” Blitzo pinched his subordinate imp’s cheek, having completed work on the ‘tunnel’ with a statement that Moxxie simply could not shake the feeling of mind-boggling irony from. “I guarantee you that fucking RV doesn’t have any mystical bullshit that’s gonna let them travel through that painting like an actual tunnel. And when they crash against that fucking wall, Loona and Millie will deliver the coup de grace, _comprende_?” 

“All set, boss!” Millie’s voice resounded from the rooftop above. The safe was kept in midair by way of a rope and makeshift pulley cobbled together from nearby stolen pipes. It wouldn’t hold the thing forever, but it’d last long enough for the task it was assembled for. 

“Perfect! Everybody in place, I think I see ‘em coming this way!” Blitzo ducked behind the nearby dumpster, pulling Moxxie along with him. As expected, the DMC RV had made a sharp turn down the alleyway and showed no signs of stopping. Blitzo smiled in anticipation and glee while Moxxie almost dared to hope Blitzo would be right for once, fingers crossed. The DMC RV continued on its course…

**CRASH!**

The RV had smashed into the wall… and kept on going. On the other side of the wall was a parking lot building, and the only reason Nico stopped at all was to pay the toll to be let out (at Nero’s insistence). 

Moxxie and Blitzo’s eyes stared in utter bafflement. What the actual fuck was that RV made out of to be able to accomplish a feat like this?! What material was that thing crafted from to be so cartoonishly durable? Moxxie couldn’t stop himself from glaring at Blizo as if to say ‘what now, smartass?’

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you little prick!” Blitzo angrily pointed his finger at Moxxie. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe YOU would’ve saw that coming!” 

“Maybe not sir, but all the same maybe we should quit with this 1950’s slapstick bullshit and go back to the more simple methods.” Moxxie slapped Blitzo’s finger away from him. “Like how about this? We follow Nero back to his home and then hold his girlfriend at gunpoint and gun him down by holding her as hostage? Or even simpler, just snipe him in his damn head when he walks to the door!” 

“Uhh guys?” Millie leaned over the rooftop to signal to her husband and employer that the pulley holding the safe was becoming less structurally sound. 

“Not now Millie!” Blitzo shouted back without looking. “That’s your problem, Moxxie. You’re so damn boring! Where’s the style? Where’s the dramatic flair in a kill like that? Where’s the pleasure?!”

“Guys, you should really move out of the way!” Millie shouted once again, the pipes buckling under the weight of the safe, the rope holding it in place becoming more and more frayed. 

“In a minute sweetie!” Moxxie shouted back before . “’Dramatic Flair’ doesn’t pay the bills, sir! Nor does it help us score a kill very much, as our venture for the entirety of the past two days has proven!” 

“So we haven’t gotten him yet, big fucking whoop! We’re still on his trail and when we reach him, I’m going to style all over his mutilated corpse and rub it in your fat fucking face, you little killjoy jackass!” Blitzo shouted.

“Good luck doing that before I blast his brains out with my Barrett M99, you spastic dumbass!” Moxxie returned verbal fire. 

“HEY IDIOTS, MOVE OUTTA THE WAY BEFORE YOU GET FLATTENED!” Loona rushed to the edge of the roof to shout down at the two imps on the ground. But it was too late, the pipes had collapsed, and the rope had snapped, falling out of reach before Loona or Millie could grab it.

“Ehh?” Blitzo and Moxxie finally looked up just in time to fully process the safe was falling on top of them, the two being caught under its mass and speed that accelerated so quickly that it created a crater upon impact with the ground, crushing the pair of imps with a sickening crunch as both the boys wailed in shock and pain. 

Millie jumped down to the ground in a panic. “Guys! Are you alright?!” 

“Hey Moxxie?” Blitzo asked in a muffled, weary tone of voice.

“Yeah?” Moxxie replied, similarly delirious from the crushing weight on top of them.

“I think maybe we should try one of your plans next.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published fanfic work. The HH fandom is full of Doom Crossovers, yet there's next to nothing for DMC content. So in the interest of being the change I wish to see in the world (and to fill the void until HH Episode 2 drops), you can expect lots of laughs, lots of action, crossovers with Helluva Boss, plenty of Dante and Vergil being at each others' throats with poor Charlie playing referee, and for shit to start popping off and getting serious far down the line. Now if only I could figure out how to build my way there.
> 
> Until then I hope you'll enjoy regardless! Comments and feedback appreciated! Also I'm bad at tagging things so be sure to tell me if I need to check stuff off to be properly filtered.


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